


Home Sweet Home

by dragonspyre



Category: Wizard101 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Malistaire being impulsive uh oh, Transformation, Wraith!Sylvia Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspyre/pseuds/dragonspyre
Summary: Malistaire's impulsivity gets the best of him.
Relationships: Malistaire Drake/Sylvia Drake
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm back after months of not writing LOL. This fanfic was supposed to be 666 words long but I went a teeny tiny bit over.

Malistaire Drake never wanted to set foot in his home world again. The apocalyptic atmosphere, and even worse, the traumatic memories he associated with Dragonspyre, were too much for him to bear. Alas, the time had come where he needed to return home, and it was not a joyous occasion in the slightest. His wife, Sylvia, had died from a supposedly unknown and incurable disease. His life had not been the same since. It had been a very long and tiring journey to get to this stage in this extravagant plan he had come up with to save her from the hands of Death, and he still trudged on, carrying Sylvia’s lifeless corpse in bridal style through the haunted ruins of the Necropolis. 

“We’re almost there, Sylvi,” Malistaire whispered absentmindedly, ignoring that his lover was in fact dead and was unable to hear his voice. He frowned at the silence. Pushing a stone door to the side with his elbow, he slowly made his way into what looked like a seemingly empty tomb. Sweat ran down his back.from the sweltering humidity (the heavy black robes he was wearing did  _ not _ make it better, of course) as he went deeper into the crypt.

Memories came flooding back of his life in Dragonspyre. Surprisingly, it used to be much colder than this, back when it wasn’t in shambles. 

Malistaire finally stopped walking when he reached the lowest level of the tomb. The heat from the lava surrounding the room was almost insufferable. He carefully laid Sylvia down on the soot stained ground and rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to cool himself down, revealing faded burn scars running across his arms. He cringed at the sight of the marks and quickly turned his gaze towards Sylvia’s body, with her arms sprawled on the floor and her once curly auburn hair a snarly and greying mess. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

_ I need her back,  _ Malistaire thought to himself repeatedly, almost on the verge of tears.  _ I really need her back.  _

Then Malistaire thought of something very, very horrible.  _ What if he attempted to bring her back now? _ He gripped his staff in both of his hands, hesitatingly. On sheer impulse, he started quickly murmering incantations and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, nothing had changed. 

All of a sudden, Sylvia’s body twitched. Malistaire stood there in stunned silence as she slowly got up from the stone floor, her tangled and faded coppery hair covering her face. “Sylvia?” Malistaire gasped. He carefully walked toward her. This was too good to be true. “Sylvia, is that you?” He repeated himself, a little louder this time. 

Sylvia instantaneously let out a high pitched scream of agony, her jaw unhinging itself in the process. Loud cracking and noises of fabric tearing apart could be heard as her body contorted and shifted into something terrifying. Her neck elongated and feathery black wings burst out of her back and stretched towards the ceiling.

Malistaire was too mortified to move or say anything. He felt tears drip and fall down his face as he watched his wife slowly and painfully transform into a wraith. What in the Fire Titan’s name had he done? This was  _ entirely _ his fault. 

Sylvia made a groaning noise and shambled towards him. The only thing Malistaire was able to do was walk backwards. Soon enough, he was cornered. Sylvia slammed her large, bony claws into the wall, leaving a huge crack in it. Malistaire was pinned to the wall, Staring into Sylvia’s faintly glowing eye sockets that were just a few inches away from his face. The putrid stench of her decaying body wasn’t helping either. 

Malistaire abruptly shoved Sylvia away with his staff and made a run for it. His old legs were burning in pain as he ran for his life through the crypt and up the stairs. Eventually, he did reach the exit, slamming the heavy door behind him and falling to his knees, crying. 


End file.
